


and the wind rises

by puckity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Impending Pain, Just Before Infinity War, M/M, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 18:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: Seven minutes is all Thor and Loki have at the end of the world.





	and the wind rises

**Author's Note:**

> _Infinity War_ killed me absolutely dead and this is the first (and almost certainly not the last) story that my grief has wrought.
> 
> Tagged for spoilers, just to be on the safe side.
> 
> Beta'd by the long-suffering [Rachel](http://betterwithsparkles.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/), if you'd like!

Seven minutes—give or take. Seven minutes from the first engagement with the Sanctuary II, seven minutes from the first hail (or more likely, the first weapons blast). Seven minutes to make one of three moves:

  1. Surrender unconditionally
  2. Give them what they want



OR (and only if their refugee nation was exceptionally lucky)

  1. Be instantly annihilated



The second option held the most personal relevance to him, and yet he found himself dwelling solely on the final point.

_Them. Their people. Annihilation._

At any rate—staring out at the warship that now seemed to eclipse the rest of space itself—seven minutes was what Loki gave them either way.

“What the hell…” Thor went stiff beside him; an invisible static current ran the length of the space between them.

Loki turned on his heel and in the pause before his first step he let grief choke him. Grief for what was to come, for the inevitability of it. Grief for what had been lost, and for how much more there was to rip from them. Grief for what they—these new Asgardians together, and Thor and himself apart—had found here. A fragile truce, a better way to be. Not forgetting, not resetting the past—but moving through it and learning to build a less poisonous future. Grief for the stolen moments he’d had with his brother, the ache within him that could never be satiated so long as Thor lived but that they had tried, tried, _tried_  to get their fill of since the wrath of Surtur set Asgard to ruin.

Grief for what he—Loki of Jötunheim and son of Odin—had brought upon them. The terrors that he had once more led to their gates with his lies and his chaos and the primal pulse of energy that he had tucked away in the folds of his seiðr. A promise kept, a debt comes due.

_He will make you long for something as sweet as pain._

Loki swallowed it all down and strode swift and deliberate to the cabin door.

“We have to send a distress signal. An urgent one.” Loki reached for the lock pad but stopped short, caught at the wrist and pulled back in tight.

“Why?” Thor’s voice was quiet, steady. If he knew what was coming, it would not be. “What is this new menace, brother?”

Loki shook, shivered in the face of it. “Destiny.”

Thor’s face twisted, lines creased around his eyepatch. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.” Loki jerked away from his grip, though not as fiercely as he could have. “You just have to listen to me and not do anything stupid, or we’ll all be slaughtered for certain.”

“Slaughtered?” Sparks crackled across Thor’s palms. “Whoever these villains are, they will find nothing but devastation if they move against our people.”

“ _That._ ” Loki pointed a finger sharp at Thor’s chest, then flattened his hand against the warm breastplate. “That is the sort of stupidity that will get you killed. You do not know this threat, brother. You _cannot_  know it—not truly—unless you have witnessed it firsthand. You speak of devastation, Thor, but _this_ —he…he is extinction. Extermination. If Surtur was a reckoning, then he is the ending.”

Loki’s lungs heaved, overfull but still gasping.

“Do you understand, brother? Do you see why you cannot thrust yourself into this battle? Because it is not a battle, and there will be no victory. From this moment on, any actions we take will be mitigation only: it is no longer a question of how many might die, but rather what few we can hope to save.” Loki drew his arm from Thor’s slack hold. “If any.”

Five minutes, maybe four. They had no more time for indecision.

Thor pressed his lips thin and nodded. “A distress signal, and then what?”

“Then you will go to your people. You are their king to the end, are you not?” Loki’s nails bit into the leather; he suddenly wished that he could have felt the beat of Thor’s heart heavy through just his skin one last time.

“I am.” Thor’s fingers closed around his, curled them together. “And what of you?”

_You could be more._

“I will face him.” The cold, vast madness of space echoed from deep within Loki.

Thor shook his head, squeezed his fingers so hard that Loki thought he might snap a few off. “You chastise me for foolish plans, yet this is what you claim for yourself. No, this is not your sole burden to bear.”

Three minutes.

“Where do the Jötnar go in death, brother?” Loki’s voice stuck and dragged, caught against his dry throat. “In all my centuries of study, I cannot seem to recall the tales of their life beyond the Nine Realms.”

Thor stepped closer, blocked the wide window and the warship behind it from view. “Loki, you will not do this.”

“ _Please._ ” Loki shut his eyes against the stars and the lights and the desperate, lost hope etched into his brother. “Please, you must let me do this. No more tricks, no more guile, no more running. If this is to be my end, I would have it be my own to make.”

Thor started but Loki met his gaze, held it firm.

“Besides, we may still have a chance. After all, we’ve got a Hulk.” Loki smiled, slow and soft and bitter only at the edges. “And a god or two, I suppose.”

One minute. Their time was up.

Loki moved back, had to be the one to do it because he knew Thor never would. Thor would keep him here—chained and muzzled if he had to—to keep him safe. Even if it cost him his life, even if it cost him the lives of every last one of his people. He would not do it purposefully; he would believe that he could find another way, one without such a high price to pay. But there would be no lesser cost and once he realized that they would all be out of time.

Just as he slipped out of Thor’s grasp he was wrapped up once more, crushed between muscle and armor and it was not—he could not—

Millennia of living selfish and willful and it was too little too late but Thanos would take all of this only after he stepped over Loki’s broken, lifeless body.

Thor’s mouth was hesitant, strangely tentative against Loki’s as though he could not decide if the spell woven between them in their time abroad the Statesman had snapped. Loki pressed in, bracketed Thor’s cheeks with his palms and fed all his fears and passions and apologies into the kiss. Thor’s hands dug bruises into the dip of Loki’s spine and this, Loki thought—

I will miss this too.

When there was no more air to breathe, they broke apart. Stood forehead to forehead as the countdown ticked to zero.

“I know not of the Jötnar.” Thor sounded ragged, gutted and trying to triage the wound. “But you, brother—you will go to the great golden halls of Valhalla, to be with our father and mother once more.”

Loki blinked fast, let the tears pool in the corners of his eyes but willed them not to fall. Thor dropped his arms but kept Loki near, fury and might and thunder rolling with him on the horizon.

Outside of their room, distant screams and wails began to tear down the halls. He was here.

“You will go to Valhalla.” Thor glanced towards the door; he let Loki go. “And I—I will see you there.”


End file.
